


A Flawless Plan

by Stuffy (AlexKingOfTheDamned)



Category: The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Belly Kink, Belly worship, Dirty Talk, M/M, Stuffing, eating contest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-07
Updated: 2013-02-07
Packaged: 2017-11-28 12:12:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/674278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexKingOfTheDamned/pseuds/Stuffy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With Clint's help, Loki comes up with a scheme that will eliminate the Avengers threat on his next plan to take over the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Flawless Plan

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING WARNING WARNING
> 
> Belly stuffing kink ahoy! If you didn't see it in the tags, hopefully you will see it here!
> 
> Other warning, it's pretty super freaking long! There's no real natural break in the story line though, so if you have to come back two or three times to finish it, that's totally fine. Otherwise just make sure you have a good long chunk of time to read it! 
> 
> Also, this is unbeta'd, so I apologize for any oopsies. 
> 
> I wrote this with a darling partner because I don't see enough of this kink out there in the fandoms, apart from Homestuck, and I'm not in that fandom.

Loki had a very powerful urge to break something. 

 

He would prefer the bones of some mortal, or the weapon of an enemy, but at that point he was furious enough to settle for any breakable object. His mind was busy rattling around his head, thinking angry thoughts at a million miles an hour while he fumed and paced, every once in a while pausing to look around with a half-formed plan to destroy something, only to be distracted by another enraged train of thought.

 

He was sick of this, absolutely sick of it. At first he had been naive enough to hope that the incident in New York had been a fluke, a one-time lucky break that the humans would not get again, and that he could still wreak havoc on Midgard without being stopped again by any mortal defenses. After all, these "Avengers" couldn't possibly stand up to him time and time again, even with stupid Thor's help.

 

As it turned out, however, he had been sadly, horribly mistaken. 

 

It seemed that every time he turned around, with every scheme he hatched and with every plan he made, the group of mortal defenders was there with a clever one-liner and an annoying amount of strength, defeating him again and again until he was about ready to tear his hair out. He hadn't originally been bothering to attack the Avengers directly – only wanting to do anything wretched to Thor's beloved world that he could – but after a while he got so fed up with the heroes getting in his way that he began to focus his efforts exclusively on trying to kill each and every one of them, but they proved to be as infuriatingly competent at defending themselves as they were at protecting pitiful civilians.

 

With a final, wordless growl of frustration, Loki threw himself into a chair and folded his arms across his chest, breathing heavily and glaring so hard at the ground that it was a wonder it didn't simply burst into flames. He didn't know what to try anymore; nothing he did was working and it was driving him up a wall. He was at the point where he almost felt powerless to stop the heroes who persistently stood in his way, and through his anger he was starting to feel disheartened, a wave of simple misery settling in, in the aftermath of his frenzied frustration.

 

However, _all_ of the Avengers weren’t that bad.

In fact one of them was almost all _good_ to Loki.

 

After being mind-fucked by Loki’s magic pixie stick, Loki had gotten a glimpse into Clint Barton, Agent “Hawkeye’s” past, and he saw a troubled youth full of brotherly pain and neglect, just as Loki had experienced in his own past. That was how Loki was able to slip his influence so nicely into the archer’s head – their minds were practically one in the same. The only difference being that Clint had been shaped into a more or less “good man” – even if he was a killer – by SHIELD, while Loki had simply been left to rot in his own emotional prison.

 

But as it turns out, their minds were so compatible, that when Loki opened the doors into Clint’s mind, Clint was able to walk through that same door in the other direction. He saw Loki’s mind, felt his torment, shared his grief and his anger, and even after the influence was eradicated, he still felt pity for the Asgardian. And then that pity turned into rage, as he hesitantly helped his team beat down Loki again and again, and he listened to them taunt him mercilessly. Even his own brother was malevolent in insisting that Loki was wrong, so wrong.

 

Clint didn’t see anything _wrong_ about what Loki was doing, he was only trying to get his fair share of affection, and nobody was willing to give it to him. The Avengers were so cruel to him, cruel in ways that they weren’t even to other villains who stood up against the city.

 

It had taken a while for Clint to gain Loki’s trust, but his requests for forgiveness were not unheeded. Loki knew his words were sincere, even if the blue was gone from his eyes.

 

It did not take long for a relationship to start.

 

Clint visited him every now and then, with a special arrow Loki had given him, that when fired at a flat surface big enough to pass through, it would open a portal to the alternate realm which Loki used as a clandestine lair. Today was a day of relaxation for the Avengers, so he wasted no time in going to visit his lover.

 

However, he was greeted with the sounds of rage. Dashing through the halls of the abandoned castle Loki had apprehended, afraid he was under attack, he rounded the corner into the desolate throne room just in time to see Loki collapse bonelessly into the derelict throne, with an expression of rage and pain and disappointment on his angular features.

 

“Babe,” he cooed and scurried forward and dropped down to his knees in front of Loki, both of his hands resting affectionately on the trickster’s thighs. “Hey, frostbite, what’s wrong?”

 

There was silence for a minute while Loki continued to glare at nothing, his gaze turned purposefully away from Hawkeye in an attempt to avoid eye contact. Everything from despair to childish petulance to simple rage danced through his eyes as Clint patiently waited for him to answer in his own time, which he finally did with an exasperated sigh.

 

"Have a guess," the trickster snarled sarcastically, still refusing to look at the human crouched in front of him. "Your accursed friends are what's wrong; they're always what's wrong."

 

Clint sighed and rubbed his hands along Loki’s thighs, comfortingly rather than seductively. “Come on, it’s not that bad,” he urged. “You might not be… winning, persay, but look on the bright side, they aren’t winning either! They haven’t got you yet, you always get away.”

 

"That hardly matters," Loki grumbled, some of the anger draining from his face to be replaced by tired unhappiness. "They don't need to, because I can't stop them and they know it. It doesn't matter if I'm free if nothing I do _works!"_ Some residual rage flared up for a moment and Loki slammed his hand down on the arm of his chair in frustration.

 

“It matters to me,” Clint turned Loki’s head with a firm hand to his jaw. “You’re just not trying the right things, I guess. Look, I mean, I know them, I can _help_ you.”

 

Clint had been refraining from really doing any direct damage to the team. They were sort of alright people, even if they were all assholes. Tony was a righteous dick, Thor was so full of himself Clint was surprised he hadn’t burst yet, Steve was so self-sacrificing it made him sick, and Bruce… well, Bruce was mostly alright. Even if he was a cautious little self-loathing sod. Natasha was his only real friend, and he used that term lightly. She was the only one he was really nervous about double-crossing.

 

“I know their weaknesses. I _live_ with them. If you hit Tony in his ego, there’s no way he’ll back down – or if you use, I don’t know, a classroom full of children as bait and tell him to come alone, the Captain will come running full tilt. You’ve just… you’ve got to hit them where it’s raw.”

 

Loki studied Clint’s face for a moment, a more pensive expression crossing his own as he did so. Clint had never made a flat-out offer to help him combat the Avengers before, and he had never asked, as he knew that would cause moral complications for the man that he didn't want either of them to have to deal with. The fact that they were technically on opposite sides of the whole good vs. evil thing had been something they had sort of managed to ignore since they'd been together, and during fights he had done his best to put on the appearance of trying to attack Clint just as much as the others without actually hurting him, but they never really talked about it beyond the Asgardian's usual complaining. The fact that Hawkeye was actually offering to completely betray his team made the trickster a bit apprehensive.

 

"Well...the problem then is crippling them all before any of them work out something's wrong and put the others on their guard. Mainly I have trouble when they get together to fight in a group. I'd need a way to make them all vulnerable at once, ideally." His tone was hesitant, and he continued to eye Clint with a hint of concern, wondering if he should be trying to discourage this behavior or not.

 

Clint frowned. “You could… poison them, or something. Set off some kind of gas?”

 

“The Doctor, Thor and the Captain are not human. It would be impossible to use a poison gas that would affect both the humans and the super-humans,” Loki waved his hand dismissively.

 

“You could… attack something underwater? I mean, none of them can breathe underwater, except maybe Stark with his suit. They’d be hard pressed to get at you down there.”

 

“Attack the fishes?” Loki raised an eyebrow. “What could I possibly gain by attacking the fishes?”

 

“It was just a suggestion,” Clint muttered. “Can’t you magic up some kind of death ray? It’s like standard issue equipment for a supervillain,” 

 

“Do you even know how death rays work?” Loki massaged his temples.

 

“What about going somewhere really cold? Draw them out into the arctic? They’ll all have a harder time of everything if they’re fighting you in six feet of snow, and _you’re_ not affected by the cold.” Clint suggested.

 

“Stark has anti-freezing metals in his suit, do you recall?” Loki sighed. “And Thor is not offput by the cold either.”

 

“Why don’t you use me as a hostage?” Clint shrugged. “You got me, you’re gonna kill me if they don’t do exactly as you say? Nat would definitely listen at least.”

 

“I don’t want to harm you. What if they do not find you worth it? My conviction will be questioned if I have to let you go at that point,” Loki shook his head.

 

“Can you use your transformation abilities somehow? I mean, even if you turn into a beautiful woman and get them all falling for you, eventually they’ll find out they’re all sweet on the same girl, and the tension will tear them a new one.”

 

“The idea could have merit, except that the Captain has that waitress, and I would rather not flirt with my own brother,” Loki groaned, rubbing his temples again.

 

“You could get on their nerves by going grade-school about it. Fill Stark’s suits with itching powder, switch all the Captain’s undies with pink frilled thongs, affix a magical shock-collar to Bruce, I don’t know.” He was sounding a little exasperated now.

 

“I may be the Trickster, but I am not immature,” Loki spat.

 

“Well I don’t know then! I’m trying here!” Clint said defensively, sitting back on his heels. “Use your dark magic to _pinch_ them to death! Magic their asses and faces to switch places! Challenge them to an eating contest until they’re rolling on the floor! Air drop a hundred angry cats, I don’t know! I’m giving you everything I got here,” Clint ran his hands over his face, still feeling at odds about the whole idea of directly assisting an attack on his more-or-less friends.

 

Loki suddenly held up a hand before Clint could speak again, a malicious sort of thoughtfulness flashing in his eyes. "Wait...Now that might actually have promise." 

 

"Angry cats?" Hawkeye frowned dubiously, raising an eyebrow as the trickster shook his head exasperatedly.

 

"No, not cats," he gave the human a look like a teacher would give to a student who had told him two plus two equals five. "An _eating contest._ That might actually do the trick."

 

“You’re joking,” Cling said incredulously. And when Loki’s expression didn’t change, he scoffed. “Come on, _I_ was joking. An eating contest? What the heck happened to ‘I’m not immature?’”

 

The trickster gave him a withering look. "On Asgard, such a thing is hardly considered immature, and Thor for one would leap at the chance to actually win one for once." A small smile crossed his face as he spoke, recalling the thunder god's many failed attempts to out-eat him in their youth. "Besides," he continued, leaning back in his seat a little, "It would also have the advantage of challenging Stark's ego, and it isn't something they would expect from me."

 

“Come on, you can’t actually be serious,” Clint shook his head. “I mean, sure, Stark and Thor might, but… well, Tony can talk Bruce into just about anything… and Steve is always jumping at the chance to ‘bond with the team’ but… I mean, come on. It might not be immature on Asgard, but on Midgard that’s like, middle-school stuff.”

 

Loki’s expression did not falter.

 

“Okay, look, if you’re really hell-bent on this idea, _I’ll_ do it, alright? I don’t want any of them thinking any less of you because you challenge them to a freaking _eating contest_.” He sighed, and replaced his hands on Loki’s knees.

 

"Well I couldn't very well do it myself anyway." Loki frowned as though Clint should have figured out what he was thinking by now. "You do it, report back when it's done, and I make my move while they're all weakened from taking in too much food. It's simple." He reached forward and patted the archer on the head, smirking.

 

“That… actually that does make sense,” Clint chuckled. “If they’re all too full to move, they can’t very well get all the way across the city to stop you from whatever you’re doing. I’m going to have to participate though, aren’t I?” he grimaced.

 

Loki paused, frowning as though baffled by the question. "Well, obviously. If you issue the challenge, you can't very well not participate. Besides, I'm sure Thor will be pushing all of you to absolutely stuff yourselves, as he'll find meaning in it that I'm sure doesn't apply on Midgard for 'middle school stuff'." When Clint gave him a baffled look, the trickster sighed. "On Asgard, eating is...more important than it seems to be here. It's a matter of honor and respect, especially when at someone else's table." He did his best to explain it simply, frowning as he tried to work out how to word things.

 

“Huh. I didn’t know that,” Clint stood up and began to pace. “Okay, so I issue the challenge… get them all to accept… get them stuffed until it hurts to do anything but breathe, and then… wait, I’m supposed to come back to you? That’s going to be difficult if I’m filled to the gills as well, you know.”

 

"I have a spell," the trickster waved one hand dismissively, "It can quickly return you to your normal, fit state and make you useful again. Just...find the closest place to use your dear little arrow and it'll be fine."

 

His eyes were flickering as the wheels in his head turned round, staring at nothing in particular as he played through scenarios in his head. It was clear that he had just about stopped paying attention to his surroundings, but after a moment he shook himself out of it and remembered that Clint was still in the room, looking up at the archer again with a small smile.

 

“Alright, I’ll hop right to it then,” he said, standing up with a smile.

 

It wasn’t hard for him to swipe one of Tony’s credit cards. He practically left them lying out on every surface. With that in tow, Clint picked up a dozen pizzas, the same number in various cakes and pies, a fuckton of hotdogs (since they were an eating contest staple) enough soda to drown a horse, about 12 gallons of ice cream, fruit platters, whole sides of ham, and in the spirit of things – every single flavor of poptarts. If there was any chance Thor was going to back down before, he wouldn’t now. And it was his enthusiasm that would draw in the rest of the team.

 

Clint used a dolly to get the food up to the penthouse of the tower, and he was setting it out with Jarvis’ help when suddenly Tony and Thor stepped out of the elevator, talking away. They froze, looking out over the scene.

 

“Sorry, did I say you could have a party in my penthouse?” Tony raised an eyebrow and lowered the tablet he was fiddling with.

 

“It’s not a party,” Clint grinned. “Summon everyone else, I’ve decided it’s high time I get to pick our ‘team bonding exercise’ since everyone else has gotten a chance but me.”

 

“Well, to be fair, you’d pick archery – and you’re the only one who can do that.” The expression on Thor’s face was not unnoticed as he surveyed the food – the poptarts in particular. “So what, instead we’re just going to sit around and have dinner together?”

 

“Not dinner,” Clint clapped his hands together, quite happy with his work. “An eating contest!”

 

Thor's eyes lit up in excitement, but Tony just stared. 

 

"A what?" He raised an eyebrow and a frown crossed his face, but Thor quickly knocked it off his face with a good-natured slap to the shoulder that nearly sent the billionaire sprawling. 

 

"I think it is a splendid idea!" the Thunderer smiled, turning between Clint and the gasping Tony. "A little friendly contest would do wonders for our camaraderie." 

 

Tony remained unconvinced as he glanced sidelong at Thor. "Yeah, okay, but this is a little, I dunno, juvenile? I mean we're all adults here, and you want us to eat ourselves into a coma for no good reason."

 

"It is for a good reason." Thor's expression lost some of its joviality as he frowned. "It is far from juvenile. On Asgard, such competitions occur regularly, and the victors are treated with much honor and respect for their success."

 

Clint swallowed his snort at Tony’s expression. “Ah! See, Stark? Come on, you aren’t backing down, are you?”

 

“Hey, whoa, I never said that,” Tony said with an accusing stare. “I’m just not sure, that’s all.”

 

“If you do not join, you lose out of forfeit,” Thor said, turning his gaze to Tony, who groaned.

 

“Fine. Only if the others agree, though.” He grunted, setting the tablet on the bar. “Jarvis, get Capsicle, Secret Agent Barbie and Jade Jaws up here pronto, alright?”

 

“Of course, sir,” the AI responded pleasantly.

 

Clint was grinning now, and he couldn’t help but feel a little excited. This plan, ridiculous as it was, might end up working perfectly. And what’s more, it didn’t directly attack the team Clint more or less liked, it just prevented them from springing into action against Loki. This was brilliant.

 

The others arrived all at once in the elevator, and when it opened on the scene, Natasha was the first to look skeptical.

 

“What’s going on here?” Steve asked petulantly, he’d just walked out of a workout session, and he was still wearing one of his trademark work-out tees, the kind that was so tight it was practically painted on. 

 

"A grand contest!" Thor beamed at the others as they entered, motioning to the food piled in front of them.

 

"Basically another bonding thing." Tony interjected, shrugging as though he couldn't care less. "Legolas here suggested we have an eat-off, and since he already got all the food, we might as well give it a shot."

 

Suddenly Natasha was next to Clint, having moved without the others noticing as her training allowed. She studied her partner as though he had suddenly become clinically insane. _"You_ suggested this? Why?"

 

“Why not, Nat?” he smirked at her. “Are you in?”

 

“I think not,” Natasha’s eyes narrowed.

 

“A feast is the perfect way to grow closer to one another, it is also custom on Asgard!” Thor beamed.

 

“Would you quit that? We’re not _on_ Asgard,” Tony muttered bitterly.

 

“Stark has agreed to perform, but I assure you – none of you will beat me, I am undefeated!” Thor bragged. Clint flared up with anger, remembering Loki’s words of ‘he would jump at the chance to win one _for once_ ’ but he couldn’t say anything for risk of suspicion.

 

“He’s issuing a challenge,” he said, gesturing towards the others. Steve looked skeptical, and Bruce looked downright wary.

 

“Come on, Bruce baby,” Tony wrapped his arm around his fellow scientist’s waist and drew him closer to the table. “You’re not gonna back down, are you? Be a man.”

 

"I guess I don't really have a choice." Bruce sighed, giving Tony a weary glance.

 

Steve glanced between the two scientists and Thor, and he finally gave a shrug. "Well...I guess it couldn't hurt to try the Asgardian way. We're a strange enough bunch that it might turn out to be perfect bonding." He didn't sound completely convinced, but all that mattered was that he wasn't saying no. 

 

“On that note I have performed the metaphorical leaps and bounds to learn your customs,” Thor added.

 

“He’s right you know, it’s about time we try doing things Thor’s way,” Clint encouraged. “After he’s spent so much time doing it our way.”

 

“It’ll be fun,” Tony sneers, looking over at Thor like he wanted nothing more than to beat him at his own game.

 

“Are you in, Nat?” Clint asked, looking over at her.

 

The redhead simply gave him a pointed look that served as more than enough of an answer, then she turned and moved to lean her back against the wall, putting as much distance between herself and the childish display she was watching as possible. 

 

"Okay," Steve interrupted any possible argument and stepped forward, clapping his hands together. "So how should we do this? Thor, are there some, uh, Asgardian rules or something about this sort of thing?"

 

“We simply issue challenges to one another!” Thor said as the five remaining Avengers assembled around the table. Clint kept looking nervously over to Natasha, but decided even if she didn’t participate, she couldn’t possibly stop whatever Loki was planning alone.

 

“And how the heck do you determine who goes first?” Tony asked, eyeing the pizza that Clint had brought, which was heaped with cheese and every kind of topping thought possible.

 

“There is no first!” Thor laughed. “Issue your challenges around the table to whomever you deem deserves one, and you continue until the food is gone, or you are unable to keep eating!” he was looking very self-important as he sat at the head of the table. Clint wanted to punch his teeth in.

 

“Last chance to join in, Nat,” Clint called to the woman.

 

“Boys are gross,” she said, with an exaggerated tone. He laughed.

 

“What about a table-wide first challenge, to break the ice?” Tony suggested.

 

“Think we could all handle a whole pizza?” Clint said, and he was _very_ happy he hadn’t eaten all day.

 

“Agreed!” Thor seemed to agree for everyone, as they all reached for a pan (Clint had set them all out on pans instead of leaving them in their boxes) that held their favorite toppings.

 

Broccoli and olives for Bruce, who was still looking apprehensive. Pepperoni and sausage for Thor, who looked ecstatic. Pineapple and ham for Tony, who was eyeing the pizza warily, and it looked like he was thinking. Bacon and pepperoni for Steve, who had an unreadable expression, and Clint took a plain cheese pizza, his personal favorite.

 

The first round went by fairly easily, or as easily as eating an entire pizza each could be expected to go. Tony and Clint were both put slightly off their game by the time the last slices went down, but neither of them were at the point of being willing to back down; and forget about the others. Steve, Thor, and Bruce were all perfectly fine and looking around the table to decide what to go for next. 

 

Tony felt a little bit queasy, and he looked over at Bruce with a quizzical eye – he didn’t even seem phased. It made sense to him that Steve or Thor would be fine, seeing as they were so big, but Bruce was a skinny little guy, and Tony couldn’t even really see a dent in his waistline – which he couldn’t quite say for himself. It was only noticeable if you really spent a lot of time looking at him, then you would be able to notice the extra inch or two, but Bruce still looked like he hadn’t eaten a thing. He couldn’t survey Clint, either, because he was on the other side of the table, and his stomach was hidden.

 

"I'll make a suggestion, if no one else wants to." Steve piped up after a minute of thoughtful silence, smiling as he started to get into the spirit of things. "Why not go for the hot dogs next; they're a bit of a classic."

 

Clint was definitely feeling a bit tight, and he wondered how he was ever going to get back to Loki if he put his all into this challenge. There were still plenty pizzas left – technically two extra if they had a second round of just pizza, because Natasha was simply observing – but they could be saved for later.

 

He was glad he’d also had the foresight to prepare the hot dogs and put them out, evenly on six platters. He’d purchased enough for each of them to have twenty – which didn’t seem like a lot until he was staring at them now.

 

They talked their way through eating since this wasn’t a competition of speed, but rather quantity, and even laughed some when one or the other Avenger would burp or their stomach would give a loud gurgle. By no one’s surprise, Thor was the one to finish first, cleaning ketchup from his beard with a napkin, but what did startle people was that Bruce finished just one hotdog later.

 

“Do you have a hollow leg I don’t know about?” Tony asked, peeking over to see there had been barely any change to the other man’s midsection, whereas his own waist had boasted an extra three or four inches, which he did his best to hide by slouching.

 

“Do not be ashamed of it, friend,” Thor beamed as he began to shuck his armor in foresight of what was to come. “It is an honor – a trophy for your efforts thus far, you should be proud of it!”

 

Tony smirked at this and sat up straighter.

 

Bruce chuckled a little at Tony's exchange with Thor, then shook his head. "No hollow leg, but, ah, I'm sort of eating for two." 

 

Understanding moved in a wave around the table, and Steve offered the scientist a smile. "I think I can understand that feeling, at least a little bit. My metabolism was kicked into high gear by the serum, so I've basically been having to eat at least two or three times what I used to when I was, well, normal." He then turned to Thor with a slightly more cheeky smirk. "So I'm hoping we can give you a run for your money, here."

 

“I would not have agreed if I did not think I would have a challenge,” Thor beamed once his armor finally came loose and fell to the floor with a loud clatter. “You will all be honorably defeated by me, but only after you have proven yourselves worthy adversaries!”

 

Tony looked across the table at Clint with an anxious smile. “So I think it’s fair to say you and I, _normal guys_ , are toast,” he said.

 

“I think it’s between you and me. Forget the other guys, they’re all obnoxiously super-human. Let’s see if you can beat _me_ ,” Clint challenged with a raised eyebrow.

 

“You are so on,” Tony sneered playfully. “I’ll issue the next challenge – two pies each.”

 

Though the others listened to the formation of the two-man duel within the bigger contest, they paid little attention once the challenge had been made. Everyone started reaching and discerning what pie was what flavor, until everyone had their preferred tastes in front of them. After that it was simply a matter of Natasha half-heartedly waving and giving the 'ready, set, go'--as the others had managed to coerce her into doing at least that much--and they started in on the pastries, a speedier pace slowing down as they continued to chat with and tease one another.

 

With Tony as his personal adversary, Clint’s fire was lit a little brighter, and he used a single for to pick his way through two pies – cherry cheesecake pie and a chocolate cream. The flavors were decadent, and he washed it down with a little soda water, the added carbonation soothing the steadily tightening feeling in his midsection every time he released the tension with a burp.

 

Tony’s eyes however continued to divert over to Bruce to see if his stomach was starting to show yet, but his shirt was still tucked into his fastened trousers, and if there was a big difference Tony was failing to see it.

 

And Thor was the least affected of all, with not a single muscle out of place as he talked and laughed his way through the second pie with ease. “Childsplay!” he announced jovially as Tony came up in last place, packing the two pies away into his straining midsection, which was definitely the most noticeable out of everyone at the table.

 

“Yeah, well, you try losing about a hundred pounds and then eating the same amount,” Tony said, throwing one arm over the back of his chair and staring down at his no longer flat stomach.

 

"Well Stark, you're free to quit whenever you want," Steve reminded him, a smirk on his face. "We'd rather not have you kill yourself by eating too much."

 

At that, Bruce looked up and raised a disapproving eyebrow at the Captain, but he said nothing.

 

Natasha sighed and snapped her fingers a few times to call everyone's attention. "Okay, okay, so what's the next challenge then, tough guys?" she questioned, voice dripping with sarcasm and lack of interest, even though she continued to watch the ridiculousness.

 

“You can still join in you know,” Clint grinned over at her, and she looked entirely unamused.

 

“Another flat savory pastry!” Thor demanded gleefully.

 

“It’s called pizza,” Tony said disdainfully as another pan was slid towards him, and he seriously considered calling forfeit, his stomach was already starting to protest.

 

“Pizza!” Thor repeated, and took the first slice of his own with rapt attention.

 

Clint was glad for the heaps of extra sauce piled on, as it helped the whole thing slide down easier. His mind was occupied with thoughts of Loki, and how he would look with his head tipped back, swallowing a bite of runny cheese offered to him by Clint. How his eyes would close, he would moan at the rich flavor, his Adam’s apple would bob. He must have had a pretty dazed expression, because Tony called out to him.

 

“Hey, you getting a hard on for your pizza over there Katniss?”

 

“No, I’m just thinking about what challenge I’ll beat you at next, Stark,” Clint snapped back without missing a beat, while a certain heat had started to settle in the bottom of his gut.

 

The discomfort was definitely starting to set in by that point, leaving Tony and Clint reeling by the time they'd finished their pizzas. Even the more super-human members of the group were starting to feel the strain, though to them it was little more than the beginnings of a stomachache, and they all paused for a break when the last slice of pizza was gone.

 

A few teases and quips were thrown around, but mostly the team was trying to sit more comfortably in their chairs, waiting for their filling stomachs to settle before they even thought about moving on to the next challenge. The wait wouldn't be too long though, if the impatient look in Thor's eyes had anything to say about it.

 

“Let us continue!” Thor suddenly announced not ten minutes later, and Clint and Tony both groaned.

 

Tony looked over at Bruce again, and to his surprise, he felt a little jump between his legs when he saw that his still-tucked-in button up was pulled a little tighter across his rounder middle. He smirked and wished the other scientist was within reaching distance, so he could lean over and give the usually skinny man’s thicker middle an experimental poke.

 

“You’re looking a little paunchy there, Bruce,” Tony said, completely ignoring the way his own stomach pressed out uncomfortably against his jeans.

 

Banner looked up and raised an eyebrow at Tony, glancing down at the man's much larger stomach and then back up to his face as though to say 'are you seriously telling _me_  that?' without speaking a word.

 

"Okay," All eyes turned to Natasha in surprise as she spoke, as she had remained mostly silent for the last fifteen minutes or so. And that little smirk on her face wasn't calming anyone's nerves. "Now I'm gonna give you all a challenge."

 

Steve frowned a little, though his voice was hesitant. "Wait, are you allowed to do that if you're not participating?"

 

Natasha shrugged. "I don't know, and I don't care. I wanna see you idiots each take down a gallon of ice cream, that should be interesting to watch." She paused, then shook her head. "No, scratch that, you each have to eat two."

 

Tony went pale, and Clint’s mouth dropped open, but Thor looked ecstatic.

 

“At last! A true challenge!” he cried, and he looked out over the flavors Clint had grabbed before seizing one gallon of chocolate, and one of vanilla. Very basic, but he hadn’t been on Midgard long enough to really experiment with flavors.

 

Once everyone had their ice cream settled in front of them – Bruce with Rocky Road and Maple Walnut, Tony with Cookies n’ Cream and Peppermint, Steve with Neapolitan and more Neapolitan, and Clint with Crème Brule and Coffee – they set in.

 

“I hate you, Tasha,” Tony grunted, also hating his own sense of pride that demanded he at least _try_ to get through this round, even though he was very sure that there was no way he could live long enough to eat two gallons of ice cream – even on an empty stomach. And, looking down at the way his shirt hugged his rounding middle snugly, he knew he was far from an empty stomach.

 

The first few minutes went easily enough. They continued to chatter their way through the ice cream – Thor was given a whole ladle because he was complaining about how small the spoons were – and everyone reached the halfway point of the first gallon around the same time, before Tony and Clint showed significant signs of slowing.

 

Tony could feel it, with every single swallow, he could feel his stomach creak and protest. He could _feel_ every nanosecond of the creamy confectionary sliding down his throat, and landing in his overpacked gut, and it was starting to make him queasy. He paused to look down at the damage, how his belly stuck out into his lap an extra five inches than normal. He groaned, and paused to pop the button on his jeans. The weight of his middle instantly surged outwards and unzipped the zipper for him, and in that moment Tony was sure he had more room, just because of the pressure released. With that feeling he was able to get the rest of the gallon down before he realized, no, he really didn’t have room.

 

He sat back in his chair, rubbing his over-swollen middle as he stared down the second gallon. Just the thought of it was making him dizzy with sickness, and he had to close his eyes and tilt his head back for the wave of nausea to pass.

His cheeks were flushed bright with shame, but he figured that bowing out gracefully was better than throwing up all over the table.

 

“I give,” he moaned weakly, his eyes still closed and his head tipped back. “I’m gonna heave.”

 

“A valiant effort!” Thor assured him with a proud fist to the table. “And you have a grand trophy!”

 

“I’m gonna throw up my trophy,” Tony groaned.

 

Bruce turned to the display of overstuffed misery that was Tony Stark and shook his head, smiling a little. He had to admit he was sort of glad Tony had bowed out, as he had been starting to worry that the man's pride would drive him to keep going until he seriously hurt himself, but it looked like whatever shred of common sense the billionaire had had won out in the end. 

 

And if Tony was out, maybe that would mean he could give up soon too. It wasn't that he couldn't handle more – hell knew the Hulk's appetite would let him keep going even while the big guy was dormant – but the novelty of the bonding had kind of worn off and his usual reclusive nature was starting to make him yearn to retreat back to the lab, which he couldn't have done while Tony was coherent. 

 

"Well, congratulations," Steve smiled at Clint, motioning with a spoon full of ice cream, "You've beaten Stark. I think if you wanna back out now you can, since we're probably gonna get through most of this food before we're done." 

 

"No, no, he doesn't get to cave just because Stark did." Natasha argued, a pleased smirk on her lips. While she was satisfied that her absurd challenge had at least toppled Tony, she wanted to see how far her partner could take this as the last of the 'normal' Avengers in the running. "C'mon Barton, let's see you finish that thing."

 

“Yeah, Cap, come on, I’m not about to give up,” Clint grinned, giving his own rounding stomach a gentle pat. He would have given it a harder smack, but as it was, things were still settling funny and he didn’t want to risk throwing up – he was feeling the same queasiness Tony was, even if his stomach wasn’t quite so large to show it. His muscles were a lot tighter than Tony’s, so it was harder for his gut to stretch out. Everything was packed in tighter because of it, and Clint longed to eat enough to wear through some of the elasticity. Besides, with a personal challenge from Natasha, he couldn’t possibly back down. He’d never hear the end of it as long as he lived.

 

He surveyed the rest of the table. Bruce was looking just a little bit rounder, like he’d had a filling Thanksgiving, and he thought he could see just the very start of what was no longer a flat stomach on Steve. But Thor… well, Thor didn’t show any signs of showing _or_ slowing, and he was nearly through his second gallon already.

 

The ice cream had started to melt a little, at which point Thor lifted the container and began to drink directly out of it, making the rest of the team reel in horror as they imagined taking the ice cream into their own filling stomachs at such a speed.

 

“Bruce,” Tony whined, looking over at the other scientist with a pitiful expression. “I may have stopped, but don’t you dare. I want you to keep going, you hear? I swear I will not be the only one the size of a house at this table.”

 

Bruce hesitated for a moment, looking as though he was going to argue, but then he sighed resignedly and grimaced. "Yeah, okay. I'll keep going." The scientist didn't seem especially thrilled at the idea, but he turned back to the remainder of his ice cream nonetheless, dispatching it at a bit of a slower pace than Thor and not giving a shit about speeding up. He should have known Tony wouldn't let him quite and escape so easily, so he'd just have to deal with it for now.

 

Natasha seemed genuinely impressed by how easily Thor was powering through all the food, as well as a little disturbed. It had to be an Asgardian thing, if eating was as big a part of their culture as he claimed, but still... "Geez, I'd hate to see what one of these contests looks like back on Asgard." she commented vaguely, shaking her head.

 

"I bet there's a lot more food involved, for one." Steve chuckled, downing the last of his ice cream and surveying the table with a critical eye. "So, since we're onto sweets, why not take some cake next?"

 

“Seriously, Steve, what the hell,” Tony moaned, still rubbing his stomach and trying to get the packed contents to settle. “You act like you do this every day.”

 

He looked over at Bruce again, and felt another pull in his groin at the sight of him, sitting leisurely back in his chair with his belly sticking out, his trousers and button up tight around him. With a little heaving, Tony managed to get his chair much closer to Bruce’s, and he reached out to press his hand to the swell of his stomach. It was warm to the touch, and so very firm, and Tony smirked and spread his fingers to cover more area.

 

“Oh, yeah, you’re definitely gonna keep going. I wanna see how much you can take,” he licked his lips and kissed the scientist’s ear, earning a full-bodied shiver.

 

“No molesting at the table,” Steve said firmly as Natasha helped her bloated friend by bringing Clint a rather large chocolate cake.

 

“I love cake!” Thor announced, using a fork that was usually used to serve salad to dig right into the cake.

 

Clint paced himself, while Tony urged Bruce on with gentle belly rubs and filthy whispers in his ear of just what he would do to Bruce as soon as he was too big to move properly.

 

The scientist blushed and glanced sidelong at Tony, the billionaire's words making it progressively harder to swallow as his thoughts were dragged farther away from what he was doing. "Ah, Tony, this..." he tried his best to protest, but he was having difficulty in focusing on anything but listening to the man's whispering.

 

Mercifully, Natasha noticed the struggle and frowned, snapping her fingers at Tony as though he was a misbehaving dog. "Hey, Stark. Quit making a scene, you can get all filthy _after_  we've all left."

 

Steve nodded, though he continued looking down at his cake, his face bright red at Tony's behavior. The publicness of sexual relationships nowadays was one of the things he was still having the most trouble coping with, and Stark never made it easy for him with how he was always all over poor Bruce, especially when he knew it made the Captain uncomfortable.

 

Tony stuck his tongue out at her, and made no move away from Bruce. “I’m just being a cheerleader, go suck a lemon,” he told her bitterly, his hand still rubbing in small circles around the scientist’s belly. His hand slipped down to give his heated crotch a quick, secret squeeze, before his fingers were right back to rubbing his stomach.

 

Clint looked over, feeling a certain heat settle in his own lap at the sight. He imagined if Loki would react the same way. Rub his stomach and toy with him before finally administering the spell that would make it shrink.

 

“Come on, Bruce, keep at it, keep eating,” Tony urged, lifting the fork now for Bruce with heaping piles of thick cake and frosting, and occasionally lifting a glass of milk that Natasha had mercifully handed out to everyone.

 

Bruce was completely hard by the end of his cake, but his stomach had grown considerably and it was impossible to tell. Clint was feeling like he was about to pop and ready to cave, his own waistline had an extra six inches he didn’t usually account for. Two whole pizzas, two gallons of ice cream and a cake had given him quite the bellyache, and every single pain that shot through him went directly to his cock.

 

He pulled his shirt up over his stomach shamelessly, and surveyed the others. Steve finally looked like he had a little bump, and even Thor seemed to be slowing down a small amount as he finally swallowed the last bit of his cake, and chugged his glass of milk to clear his throat.

 

"So, what now?" Steve asked, his voice strained as he continued to stare determinedly at the table in front of him.

 

Natasha sighed and glanced at the Captain sympathetically, though she doubted she could help him, or even really wanted to. While Stark's behavior bugged her, she had to admit that exposing Steve to this might help him build up a tolerance for it, or at least get him to the point where he didn't have to splutter and look away in embarrassment every time he saw a Victoria's Secret ad. Still, it was annoying.

 

"I don't know, maybe you should take a break from food and hit the soda?" she suggested, and Bruce nodded sharply. His mouth had become quite dry under Tony's treatment, even with the glass of milk, and having to only drink something for a bit would definitely be a blessing.

 

“Yeah, alright, let’s drink one of the 2-liter bottles each,” Clint said, looking over towards the Dr. Pepper and ready to pounce on it to claim it.

 

The next several minutes were filled with nothing but chatter and burping as they each drank and drank. Tony had one leg up over Bruce’s lap at this point – or rather, what was left of it, considering – and he was sitting totally sideways as he lifted and held the bottle with one hand, and used the other to rub and pinch and massage Bruce’s belly, which was pressing even more tightly against his clothing now.

 

Clint, who in his youth had been the champion of several chugging contests, challenged Thor to see who could drink theirs faster, but Steve and Natasha were the only ones paying attention, as Tony took the opportunity with their attention held to grind against Bruce’s hip and seize his package with a few surreptitious squeezes. 

 

Natasha was rooting for Clint, but Steve was sure Thor would win out. In the end, Clint was the one who won – Thor was not used to the carbonation and it burned his throat in ways he wasn’t used to. When he finally tossed down the empty plastic container, both he and Thor shared in obscene burps that rattled the silverware.

 

“You are a grand adversary!” Thor beamed.

 

Clint was really starting to feel the strain now, and he was about 80% sure he would give up before the start of the next challenge, but had to keep going for the sake of Loki’s plan. At least, he had to get the other men round and full as well. He’d succeeded with Tony, and Bruce was quickly getting there, but Steve had barely crossed the starting line, and Thor’s stomach was still flat. He had to get them full and round as the rest of them.

 

“Okay, a whole ham,” Clint challenged, wary at the sight of the massive hunk of meat, but he’d keep going until he couldn’t anymore. They were nearly the size of a basketball each, and they steamed beautifully. He’d gotten one for each of them, but with Tony out of the running and Natasha not participating... “And if Thor and Steve can get down the two extra, I will give up.”

 

Natasha's eyebrows rose as she stared at Clint, not sure whether to be impressed or concerned for his mental health. Those hams were a massive amount of food to take on top of what they'd already eaten, but she had to admit he'd given himself a good way out here, and she too was morbidly curious about just how far Steve and Thor would be able to push themselves.

 

Bruce looked up almost despairingly, but any complaint he was going to make was quickly silenced by another grope from Tony, and he swallowed. "Ah, okay, I guess," he mumbled, struggling to ignore the pain radiating from his stomach to keep going as he glanced at the hams.

 

Steve blinked, confused by the additional challenge until he took a closer look at the others. They were clearly struggling to keep up, with only himself and Thor remaining anywhere near comfortable, which he supposed only made it fair for them to eat extra.

 

“A grand challenge!” Thor seemed very excited at the thought of eating two, and pulled the two nearest closer to him. Tony drew one closer to Bruce, and Steve took hold of his own, and bid a fond farewell to his mostly flat stomach, as that would be the end of that by the time he finished this challenge.

 

Clint was despondent as he stared down the size of his own challenge, but he would keep going at least until the other two stopped and he was forced to retire from the competition.

 

Tony was feeding Bruce tidbits from his fingers, massaging his belly and whispering encouragingly, completely disregarding everyone else in the room as he kissed Bruce’s neck and hummed wicked things in his ears. Bruce was powerless to do anything but close his eyes, listen, and eat from Tony’s fingers.

 

Clint was surprised by the softness of the meat, and he continued to look over at Thor, to see any signs of a belly yet – was that the beginnings of a bump? It was hard to tell, as Thor was eating so quickly, his breathing was quicker, and his entire torso moved too much. His fingers were greasy, but he at least had the decency to keep his face clear as he swallowed obscenely large amounts of ham at a time.

 

“Bruce, baby, so wonderful,” Tony praised quietly as he continued to feed Bruce, and he was grinding brazenly against his hip now.

 

"I didn't realize you were into this," Bruce muttered in between mouthfuls, thoroughly embarrassed but still intrigued by Tony's behavior as the billionaire continued to grow more and more brazen in his actions. He'd be lying if he said Stark's enthusiasm wasn't contagious, but he couldn't help but be curious at how fast the man had abandoned all modesty short of tackling him right then and there with the others still in the room. 

 

Steve kept up a good pace, just shy of Thor's insane speed as the two of them worked their way through their extra hams, feeling his stomach starting to protest the amount of food being forced into it but ignoring it fairly easily. He'd have to work hard if he wanted to have even a chance against the Asgardian, but he was prepared to do just that, and he willed himself on with an occasional glance up to see how Thor was faring with his food.

 

Clint’s pace had slowed considerably, and he would take shallow sips of milk between bites of ham. The others were so focused on their own food that they didn’t notice he’d nearly come to a halt altogether. His gut was packed so tightly he was on the verge of bursting, and he continued to explore the tight surface with one hand, while he fed himself little bits with the other. He could hardly believe the limits of his own body, his stomach stretched almost eight inches out in front of him, like he’d just swallowed a watermelon whole, and his body was pumping with adrenaline due to the strain.

 

A sense of fullness was finally washing over Thor, but he knew well that he could eat far past the point of fullness, and he had in the past. His stomach was still flat, but he knew it would not be that way for long as he finally swallowed the last bit of the first ham, leaving the bone on an empty plate. The contents of his nearly unfathomable stomach were finally packed comfortably end to end to end, and now any extra food forced inside would finally begin the stretch that the rest of the team had already experienced.

 

Bruce finished his meat with a sigh and leaned back in his chair, grimacing at the stupidity of this whole thing as his stomach heartily agreed. If it wasn't for Tony sitting there giving him each bite, he would've been happy to bow out and leave ages ago, and there was a vague sense of resentment that the man had made him stay long enough to become this uncomfortable. But then, the pulsing a bit below his stomach reminded him that he'd get something out of it in the end, and that he only had to be patient and hold out until Tony either got bored or ran out of patience and would inevitably drag him off.

 

Glancing over at her partner, Natasha noticed how slow Clint was going and couldn't help but smirk. He had set things up so that he'd be able to back down without admitting he couldn't go any further, even though it was clear from looking at him that he was hitting a wall, and she respected that. It was the sort of smart playing that she expected from him, and he didn't disappoint.

 

Thor was in tunnel-vision mode, his eyes focused on nothing but the meat, his ears closed off to Bruce’s quiet moans and Steve’s own plight. All that he knew, his entire world, was finishing this challenge, and winning the competition. It was truly in his favor that the meat was so delicious – even if it wasn’t quite as good as Asgardian boar – because it distracted him from the progressively heavier and tighter feeling settling in his belly.

 

Clint was about halfway through his ham, and he would have stopped altogether if he wasn’t sure someone would notice and say something. He knew there was no way he could continue, he could only ensure that the other two keep eating.

 

“I’m impressed by you, Cap,” he said, a hiccup following his statement, accompanied by his stomach giving a loud gurgle. “I didn’t think you had this in you.”

 

Steve looked up, focusing his gaze on Clint to avoid looking at Tony all over the struggling Bruce, and he chuckled somewhat shakily. "Well, I didn't really expect to be doing this, but ever since the serum, I've had to eat a _lot_  to keep myself in this shape. So it's not really _so_  bad." He shrugged and looked down at his own swelling stomach, pausing as he took a bite of his second ham. "Besides, in a way, this is sort of...fun."

 

Fun probably wasn't the right word for it, but he didn't know how else to word the good feelings that came with doing something together as a group that had them all – or mostly all, anyway – involved and getting closer to each other. It was important if they were going to continue to work together well as a team, even if some of the others didn't necessarily agree, and he was glad for the opportunity.

 

When Thor finally sat back from his second ham, more or less at the same time Steve did, there was finally a noticeable bulge in his middle. It wasn’t much, more like he’d just eaten a heavy lunch, but it was visible beneath his tight, navy-blue tank top.

 

“Alright, you win,” Clint raised his hands in defeat, his sentence punctuated by a loud, grateful gurgle from his belly. “I’m out.”

 

He sat back in his seat, pulled his jeans down to give his stomach more room, and set in to watch. He could already tell that Bruce would be the next to give up, but he was curious to see just how far he could go.

 

“Go on, then, Bruce.” He grinned, looking at the hot-and-bothered scientist. “Why don’t you pick the next challenge?”

 

“Yeah, Bruce,” Tony murmured into his ear. “What are you gonna stuff yourself with next?”

 

Bruce shivered, but pushed Tony's head back gently so he could look at what was left and think without quite so much distraction. He honestly didn't want to even think about more food, let alone eat it, but he still wasn't at the point where Tony was going to let him quit, so he had to just pick something and get it over with. He didn't even really want to bother choosing something strategically, so with a frustrated sigh he pointed at random and frowned. "I don't know, uh...more ice cream?" he suggested, clearly getting tired of the whole thing.

 

Steve smiled and snagged yet another gallon of Neapolitan, still refusing to look anywhere near Tony and keeping his gaze mostly on his food. Even without looking though, he could tell that Bruce was getting close to throwing in the towel, which meant it would just be him and Thor in the end, a thought which made him both excited and nervous. 

 

Tony’s own stomach was nothing in comparison to Bruce’s now, which swelled tightly against his clothes, cutting into the girth uncomfortably. As much as Tony would love to see Bruce eat until his buttons popped, he knew that this shirt was a favorite of both of them, so he gently untucked the tight cloth, and began to pop the buttons open from the bottom up, revealing Bruce’s swollen, furred belly inch by inch. He threaded his hand through the soft hair, leaving the few buttons at the top clasped for modesty’s sake, and he pulled apart the fastenings of the scientist’s trousers. His stomach rounded out, no longer held in tightly by his clothes, gravity seizing hold of it and not letting go. It was heavier now, hung lower, and felt much less tight. Tony watched most of the discomfort wash away from Bruce’s face.

 

“There you go, baby, that’s much better isn’t it?” Tony purred in his ear, grabbing one of the gallons of vanilla – nice and mild, for Bruce’s aching belly.

 

Bruce sighed shallowly and winced at the ice cream. Though the pain in his stomach had lessened, he still wanted no part of continuing to eat, even if ice cream was something easy to swallow and Tony continued to hang over him. But maybe if he finished this one last round, he could be done, since he could see that Tony wasn't feeling especially patient at the moment; so he'd just have to grin and bear it. 

 

He looked up and immediately felt a wave of guilty embarrassment at the way Steve was practically staring down at his own lap in his attempts not to see Stark's actions unfold. He wanted to do something to help Steve feel less uncomfortable, but he knew full well that he could barely do anything in his current condition, so he simply tried to ignore the Captain's distress and start in on the ice cream so this could be over with.

 

Clint was definitely feeling stirrings in his groin as he shamelessly watched the two lovers, watched how Bruce’s blush would deepen when Tony would whisper something downright vile in his ear, how the bloated scientist’s Adam’s apple would bob when he swallowed thickly. Tony would lift glasses of milk to his lover to help him wash down the thick sweet cream occasionally, and other times he would pause to give Bruce a belly rub, but he was methodical in getting Bruce through the gallon.

 

Thor seemed to like ice cream almost more than he liked poptarts, because he didn’t slow or even falter once on his way through the gallon. He chatted with Steve, encouraged him on in much more polite ways than what Tony was doing to Bruce, insisting that Steve would be the one to give him his best challenge yet, and he should definitely keep going because Thor wasn’t even close to his limit.

 

Eventually the three all finished their ice cream, pausing for a moment to catch their breath before glancing around to think of what they could possibly choose next. They weren't exactly gunning for anything big, and finally Steve spoke up with a suggestion that he figured would help them all power on a little bit longer. "Maybe we could go for more soda?"

 

The other two nodded, and they each grabbed the brand of their choice and started drinking at their own pace, not in nearly as much of a hurry without Clint pushing Thor to chug. Bruce was still feeling that he wouldn't last long, but he was grateful for the drink as a semi-reprieve from the heavier dishes they'd been going through, so he could maybe manage a little bit longer, until Tony would let him go and he could start making a brave and probably very stupid attempt to walk anywhere feeling like he did. Hell, he'd probably end up just staying in that room and having everybody else leave, if he felt like scaring them with a little annoyance from him. 

 

Tony continued to sing Bruce’s praises all the way through the two liters, kissing his ears and lapping at his throat, sucking bruises into his shoulders and rutting more fiercely against his hip. Clint saw that Natasha was watching them now too, and the way her tongue wetted her lips did not escape his notice.

 

Thor finally seemed to really catch on that they were nearly going at it hot and heavy over there, and simultaneously noticed how uncomfortable Steve was, so he took the Captain’s attention with a joke and a laugh, and he could see the gratefulness in the way his eyes crinkled.

 

“Pay them no mind!” Thor beamed, sitting back in his chair so that he could display his growing stomach more proudly. “These acts are also common among Asgardians during competitions like these. However, it is usually women wearing nothing but silk who will be assigned to every competitor. We have no silk-clad women. Unless you wish for the Black Widow to – ”

 

“Forget it,” Natasha spat. “I am not rubbing myself all over the Captain. Besides… I’m pretty sure if I did, his cock would get so hard so fast it would explode, and he’d die of bloodloss in a matter of seconds. ”

 

Steve choked.

Tony grinned. 

 

Steve's eyes suddenly became glued to the remainder of his ginger ale, trying in vain to hide the embarrassed shade of red that his face had turned as he fidgeted in his seat. He was starting to feel very alienated now, almost wanting to surrender so he could get the heck out of there, but he knew that would be rude.

 

And cowardly. 

And he still kind of wanted to see if he could beat Thor. 

Dammit.

 

Still vaguely aware of the Captain's discomfort through the thick Tony-induced fog swarming his brain, Bruce looked up and studied Steve's posture for a moment before sighing shallowly and glancing sidelong at Tony. "Mh, I really don't think I can go for much more here," he muttered to Stark, making it clear that half of his problem was the growing need to find someplace to be alone with the billionaire and make him fulfill all the promises he'd been making over the past few minutes.

 

“Oh, come on babe, one more challenge,” he urged, flattening the hairs on Bruce’s stomach with his palm as he slipped it over the tight surface. “Just one more. One more and then I’ll help you out of here.”

 

He honestly doubted how well he would be able to fuck Bruce with his own stomach so swollen, but damn he would try. It honestly paled in comparison to Bruce, who was bordering on a fully pregnant look – without any of the glow, replaced instead with arousal and nausea.

 

“Hey Tasha, why don’t you go order a few more pizzas?” Clint looked over his shoulder at the still totally mobile woman. “Because I doubt Thor and Steve will be done even if they clear the rest of the table.”

 

Natasha rolled her eyes, but she nodded and turned to leave the room, pulling a cell phone from her pocket as she went. "Or more like a few dozen," she remarked, slipping out the door to make the call. 

 

"Speaking of the next challenge," Steve spoke up, still staring determinedly at the table, "What should it be?" 

 

Bruce tore his expectant gaze away from Tony to survey the table with a frown, wincing at another protest from his stomach. If this was the last damn thing he had to eat, he figured he might as well decide what it would be, then he could get the hell out of there. Even though the idea of Tony helping him walk considering the billionaire's similar state was laughable, he was still going to hold the man to the offer. "I don't know, how about more pie?" he suggested after a moment's thought.

 

Everyone settled in with their pies, and even Clint had started to nibble at the half-ham still left in front of him, his stomach had started to settle, and he wanted more of that heavy feeling back.

 

Tony selected a drippy, decadent caramel pie for Bruce, heaping spoonfuls into the scientist’s mouth and helping him wash it down with sips of milk. The going was rough, but Tony didn’t give Bruce a chance to slow. He listened to the heavy way he was swallowing, his throat sore and raw from overeating, his stomach gurgling and churning away as more and more pie was shoved down into it.

 

“So beautiful,” Tony commented once half the pie was gone, helping the other man gulp down half a glass of milk. “You’re halfway there.”

 

Thor, on the other hand, had already finished his pie and he was feeling quite impatient. He knew once Bruce had dropped out, he and Steve could pick up the pace, especially considering the shameful distraction would be gone from the corner of the Captain’s eye.

 

Not long after Thor, Steve finished his pie as well, leaving him to twiddle his thumbs awkwardly while they all waited for Tony to finally let Bruce be done. He had to admit, he also wanted to pick up the pace and see just how far he and Thor could take this, but he was also aching for Stark to go off and do whatever horrible things he would do to Bruce somewhere he couldn't see it. Even in his own time, he had been a bit of a shy person, and all this was just fraying his nerves relentlessly as he waited. 

 

It took several minutes on auto-pilot for the last bite of caramel to disappear, and Bruce shook his head wearily once it had vanished. "That's it, I'm out." He took as deep a breath as he could manage and winced, struggling to get his voice to keep working. "I'm just...I'm done. Tony you bastard." 

 

Tony was grinning as he kissed the remnants of caramel from Bruce’s lips. “Alright, babe, you’re done,” he said, rubbing his palm across the expanse of his belly. “You gave an amazing run though, I didn’t think you were capable. Let’s get you to the bedroom down the hall, hm? I think you need to lie down.”

 

Suddenly his own stomach seemed like so much less of a burden as he helped Bruce to his feet and stagger out of the room, leaning most of his weight on Tony.

 

“Well, I’m still gonna watch,” Clint said with a smirk, moving his chair a little bit closer to the other two. “Now that they’re gone, I think Steve can finally manage to _look up_ , huh?”

 

Steve gave an uncomfortable chuckle.

 

“God, you guys suck,” Clint laughed, looking between his own bursting stomach and Steve and Thor’s barely-there bumps.

 

Steve laughed, this time with more actual amusement as he followed Clint's gaze. "Well, it's not that great, really. I _always_  have to eat an absurd amount of food to fill me up, and that can get to be a little much." He shrugged, one hand coming to rest on his stomach as he smiled thoughtfully. "It was actually kind of a shock after spending my entire life as a skinny kid."

 

Natasha came back into the room, leaning against the doorframe as she shook her head at how much food had already been demolished. "Okay, so the pizzas are gonna be here pretty soon, but in the meantime, how about you keep going with the sweets and try more cake," she suggested, nodding at the remaining desserts. She was sort of ashamed at how fascinating this whole stupid thing was, but now that it was just Thor and Steve, she couldn't contain her curiosity at how much those two would go through before there was a winner.

 

“Come on, Nat, who do you think’s gonna win? Let’s make a bet.” They were constantly slipping money back and forth over the years as they made bet after bet over this, that or the other thing.

 

She looked over the two men with a discerning eye as they dug into their cakes. “As much as I would like Steve to win,” she murmured, eyeing his growing belly. “Twenty on Thor to win.”

 

“Aw, come on Tasha that’s just mean,” Clint chuckled. “Alright, I’ll match you, and I’ll root for Steve. Don’t let me down buddy, beat Tough Guy at his own game.”

 

“You will not,” Thor said smugly, “But I will be interested to see you try.”

 

By the time Natasha was going down to fetch the pizzas, the cakes were gone, as well as a box of poptarts each. Both of their stomachs were much rounder now, although Steve’s was noticeably larger than Thor’s.

 

Licking his lips as he surveyed the stack of pizzas Natasha carried, Clint took inventory of the table.

 

“Two pies left, two cakes,” he murmured. “Six pizzas, two fruit trays, and twelve boxes of poptarts. Nice how everything settled into even numbers.” He ran his hand over his stomach thoughtfully. “Nat, split everything even between them, would you? Now that it’s just the two of them, challenges aren’t necessary. We’ll just see who holds out to finish it all.”

 

Natasha split up the food and drinks between the two men and made sure to get a closer look of both their bellies when she drew closer.

 

“You’re going to lose your money, Clint,” she smirked as she looked at the Captain’s slightly larger stomach. “There’s no way he’s gonna win this.”

 

“Don’t listen to her, Steve,” Clint grinned, picking at the ham again, which had gone cold, but was still delicious. “You got this, man.”

 

Steve chuckled and shook his head at the SHIELD agents' behavior, but he said nothing, instead diving into a pizza at a moderate pace that nonetheless would've left the others in the dust if they had still been competing. He had to admit, Thor did seem to be in the lead as far as their bloating stomachs showed, but he had military discipline to help him, and he wasn't going to back down.

 

Soon, the Captain had finished off two more pizzas and was taking a bit of a break by going for the fruit platter, trying to pace himself without slowing down too much. That was the one thing he knew Thor wouldn't do, as the Asgardian seemed hellbent on pushing on as fast and as far as he could, but it might catch up with him and make him hit a wall. At least, Steve could hope that would happen. 

 

Thor, on the other hand, had already finished all three of his pizzas. His stomach was significantly rounder now, tapering away from his body a full four inches more than normal. He lifted another 2-liter bottle with the intention of chugging it and releasing pressure with a massive belch, as he’d done before with Clint.

 

Clint was quite pleased with the process now, and he and Natasha were both cheering on the victor they preferred, Clint insisting that Steve would win, and Tasha maintaining that Thor had the practice for this sort of this, and claimed total victory in the past. Clint still had strong doubts about that, but he couldn’t afford to question it, lest he give away the fact that he has extra knowledge.

 

“You cannot beat me, you might as well give up before you give yourself a serious stomachache,” Thor laughed to his fellow warrior in eating, inspecting the way his stomach boasted an extra three inches, at least.

 

Steve raised an eyebrow and grinned at the thunder god, shaking a strawberry at him. "Now hey, I thought you said you wanted a challenge," he reminded Thor before popping the strawberry into his mouth. "And I damn well intend to give you one."

 

Natasha scoffed, though it was mostly light-hearted as evidenced by the barely-restrained smile on her face. "Challenge or not, just go till one of you drops." She waved one hand dismissively and nodded at the remaining food.

 

“You have given a good fight, yes, but you cannot possibly hope to consume everything in front of you,” Thor said, looking back at the array still laid out in front of Steve. “It will be funny to watch you try.”

 

Steve shrugged, the slightest prickle of annoyance flaring up at Thor's comments, but he managed to easily ignore it. "Well I guess I'll just have to give it a try and see how far I get, then." 

 

In the next twenty minutes, Thor had also inhaled the remaining cake and pie on his side, with his middle noticeably rounder to show for it. He took a few minutes to drink another bottle of soda, though he took it slower, letting out shallow little burps instead, using his free hand to massage his stomach, which was giving him the first real signs of pain. Only the poptarts and fruit platter remained on his side, though the amount of sliced fruit was daunting. At least two pounds, if not more.

 

In the same time frame, the Captain's remaining pizzas had vanished, as well as most of his fruit and a couple more boxes of poptarts. He lacked the love for the breakfast pastries that Thor had, though, and found them to be a bit slower going than the foods he was used to. They tasted so...artificial, he wasn't sure he really liked it, but didn't want to say so due to the massive horror that he knew would be Thor's reaction. Things were getting quite painful now, but he fought down the flares of discomfort and plowed on, determined to stick it out as long as he possibly could.

 

 

“I swear, it’s gonna come down to soda here,” Clint laughed, seeing how close both the men were to finishing their food. Thor had picked his way through two thirds of the fruit tray and half of the boxes of poptarts.

 

Thor had resorted to swallowing the chunks of fruit whole. He rather enjoyed the feeling of the large morsels slipping down his throat and forcing the walls of his stomach out that much more. He could hardly believe the amount of food that Steve, a mortal – even an enhanced mortal – had eaten. It was nearly worthy of an Asgardian, though he would be sure not to let the Captain win.

 

Several tense minutes later and he’d finished off the fruit entirely, and he sat back to survey the damage of his stomach. It was much larger than before, his waistline had expanded by at least six or seven inches, if not more, and the stretch was no longer pleasant, but rather bordering in painful. He would never show his weakness on his face, however, and continued to grin as he sipped his way through another bottle of soda.

 

The cake and pie on the Captain's side of the table quickly vanished, as did the remnants of his fruit, leaving him with poptarts and soda as he tried to catch up to Thor's pace. He was amazed at how quickly the Asgardian had been able to go the entire way, without really slowing at all or showing signs that the speed was a problem, even as he felt his own pace continue to take its toll on his aching stomach. 

 

Frowning at the poptarts, Steve shook his head wearily but kept eating, glancing at Thor every once in a while to see how he was doing and noticing that the thunder god was _still_  ahead. He didn't really know what he could do to catch up at that point, but he refused to surrender, pushing harder as things came down to the wire.

 

“Come on, man, you can’t let Thunderbuns take this from you!” Clint encouraged. It was less that he wanted the two of them round and immobile now, more that he wanted to come home to Loki with the news that his brother had been defeated.

 

“Should I go get _more_ pizza?” Natasha raised an eyebrow.

 

“I am sure I could take it,” Thor smiled confidently. “But I do believe our Captain is on his last leg.”

 

"Hey now," Steve looked up and managed a smile, though the strain was evident in his expression, "You haven't finished those yet either." He nodded to the remaining few boxes of poptarts in front of Thor as he reached for a swig of his own soda. 

 

Natasha shook her head. "Okay, this is gonna take forever if we push you two to your limit. What if we just call it that whoever finishes what they've got here first takes it?" she suggested, catching a suspicious frown from Clint. 

 

"Hey, you know Thor's a faster eater. That's cheap," he pointed out, and the redhead threw up her hands exasperatedly. 

 

"Well...okay, fair point, but I also don't wanna be here all day," she remarked, motioning to the way both combatants continued to stubbornly struggle on despite their massive stomachs.

 

“Alright, let’s see if you guys can finish before worrying about getting more,” Clint just said with a laugh. “I mean, there’s still a lot of soda left there, so even that has to disappear.”

 

“It is not a challenge,” Thor chuckled.

 

Steve wasn’t so sure, but he was certainly going to give it a shot.

They ate their way through the last of their food without much more struggle, but then it came to the soda.

 

“The home stretch,” Natasha smirked, and with a quick count, “Let’s see who can fit twelve liters inside them on top of all the food, hm?”

 

Thor continued to grin as he pulled the nearest of the sodas close. His stomach was straining against his shirt now, and he gave in to Clint’s idea, lifting the tight hem over his globe of a belly to relieve some of the pressure. Steve looked cautious, but he was methodical in his drinking.

 

He was definitely feeling pain now. He’d pushed himself farther now than he ever had before in all his life, his gut rounding out in front of him almost a full ten inches, and the whole mass was pulsing with a heartbeat. Liquid, as it turned out, was actually harder to get down than food. It had so much less mass, but filled him up so much more quickly. Clint could actually watch his stomach expand with every deep swallow he took, and he knew, unfortunately, he would be bowing out soon.

 

Upon completion of the second bottle of soda, Steve nearly felt the contents of his stomach backwash up his throat. And looking over at Thor, who had just tossed his fifth bottle out of six to the floor, and he knew he was done.

 

“Okay,” he moaned, sliding down in his chair to relieve some of the pressure on his gut by sitting back. “Fine, Thor, you win, you win.”

 

“Dammit Steve,” Clint muttered, pulling out his wallet with some difficulty and passing a twenty to Natasha.

 

“I am victorious!” Thor announced, thrusting his fist into the air.

 

Steve shook his head dazedly, glancing over at Clint and managing a pained chuckle. "Sorry, but serum or no, I'm still only, uh, sort of human," he said apologetically, then turned to Thor. "You are something else entirely. Good going."

 

Smirking, Natasha took her partner's money and pocketed it, looking around at the three engorged men. "Okay, well, game over then. I'm gonna go, since I am not about to try carting any of you outta here." 

 

She turned and strolled to the door, pausing before she left and turning back to smile at Clint. "Good game Barton, that was...less horrible than I thought it'd be." And with that, she slipped into the hallway and out of sight.

 

“Good luck getting out of here you guys,” Clint laughed. “I’m gonna go back to my room and try to sleep this off,” he patted his stomach and finally managed to pull himself into a standing position.

 

He teetered out of the room, quite looking forward to the spell that Loki will use to fix his gut and make it less achy and heavy. The pain was dulled almost entirely, instead he was just feeling incredibly full, and actually pretty satisfied.

 

As soon as he was alone in his room, he walked into his bathroom – the only place that wasn’t under surveillance, and fired the spelled arrow at the wall of the shower. Pulling the arrow out as he went to close the portal behind him, Clint stepped through into the very heart of Loki’s castle. With a few shaky steps, he made his way through the castle and finally rounded the corner into Loki’s throne room. He chuckled and fell back against the wall to support the added weight in his middle.

 

“Done and done,” he huffed at Loki, rubbing his swollen gut. “They won’t be a problem now.”

 

The trickster's eyes flashed as they flickered up and down Clint's swollen form, and he said nothing for a moment as he reigned in the sudden desire to jump the human right then and there. He closed his eyes and the corner of his mouth quirked upwards in a pleased smirk, letting the image sink into his mind of how the archer looked, leaning there against the wall with that pleased expression and quite the expanded middle. It sort of reminded him of Asgard, and the way people would look in the aftermath of big celebrations as they swept away the various barely-dressed women who would be hanging over them to finish the night. He'd never really been one to take part in that sort of thing, but he certainly might make an exception now, celebrating the success of Clint's lovely idea.

 

"Good. I can tell you had fun, as well," Loki remarked, his eyes still closed and his tone silky smooth.

 

“The going was a little tough,” Clint admitted, and his stomach agreed with a loud gurgle. “But I made sure they were all stuffed to the brim before they walked out. Man, you should _see_ Bruce, he looks like he’s about to _pop_.”

 

He rather liked the image of Loki sitting there, lost in his own thoughts, leaned back and legs spread open and head tipped up to show off his expansive neck. Clint cleared his throat.

 

“Ah, so, about that spell?” he asked, slipping his hands over his aching belly.

 

"Oh, did I say spell?" Loki's eyes finally opened again, and there was something distinctly cat-like about his expression as his smirk widened slightly. 

 

He sat up and leaned over one arm of his chair to pick up something from beside it, rising again with a glass bottle in his hand containing a translucent teal liquid that almost seemed to give off the faintest glow. "I meant potion. I'm sure it won't be _too_  much of a problem to get down."

 

The look on Clint's face was priceless, and it only made the trickster's smirk grow into a full, twisted grin as he gently shook the bottle by its neck.  

 

“Oh you bastard,” Clint groaned, and suddenly the pain in his belly was back full force. He slid a little farther down the wall, his shirt riding just a little bit higher over his chest and he clutched his stomach. “Bring it over here then, I don’t think I can walk that far,” he groaned.

 

Loki laughed, raising an eyebrow at the crippled archer. "Really? You made it here easily enough though, didn't you?" His tone was taunting, but he got to his feet anyway and strolled across the room to where Clint was barely managing to stand, leaning his own shoulder against the wall and holding the bottle out in front of the frustrated human. "Here then, it won't bite."

 

Clint took the potion with a sharp glare towards the satisfied trickster. He looked down at the liquid with disdain, swishing it around the bottle. “I don’t have to drink _all_ of it, do I?” he asked with a groan, wagering there was at least half a liter in the bottle.

 

"Well of course you do, why would I give you more than you need?" Loki pointed out, still very obviously tickled by the archer's frustration as that vaguely predatory grin remained in place on his lips. "Though, you don't have to gulp it down all at once. You can take your time, as long as you aren't too slow with it," he admitted, relenting a little.

 

Clint groaned again. “This shit had better be fast acting,” he grunted before pulling the cap off and tilting back the bottle. It was very cool, and tasted faintly of mint, and it tingled Clint’s throat as he swallowed it. Despite Loki’s words, he really wanted to get it over with, so he swallowed and swallowed, his stomach gurgling and protesting as still more was stuffed down into it. He could feel Loki’s eyes burning as they stared at him, and he clutched his stomach with his free hand as finally the last drop slipped down his throat into his bursting belly.

 

A shiver raced down the trickster's spine as he watched Clint gulp the liquid down in one go, biting his lip and restraining the urge to reach out and touch the human's straining, noisy stomach. He hadn't expected the archer to drink it all that fast, though it sent a rush through his system to watch, and it left him scrambling for a moment to remember what he had been about to say. 

 

"Oh don't worry, it is." Loki's smile reappeared and his eyes flickered brighter as he regained his composure. "...Once it's been triggered, of course."

 

Clint stared at Loki incredulously, his chest heaving and his stomach groaning. “ _Triggered?_ ” he repeated venomously. “How the _fuck_ is it triggered?!”

 

"Temper, temper," Loki laughed, watching the anger build in the archer's eyes. He pushed away from the wall and slowly circled until he was standing in front of Clint, surveying the human hungrily, and he brushed his fingers across the archer's stomach as he moved closer. "Don't worry," he purred, pressing both hands against the bulk as he leaned in to kiss the human's throat. "I'll handle that."

 

Clint groaned openly, tilting his head back as a spike of pain shot through his gut from where Loki touched him, but warmth spread out from the point of contact as well.

 

“Oh, shit,” he groaned, his eyes closing and his hands lifting to tangle in Loki’s thick black hair as his lips sucked a hickey into his throat. “You had this planned all along, you divine bastard.”

 

The trickster chuckled when he momentarily broke away from Hawkeye's skin, letting his hands slowly slide across the archer's engorged middle. "Mmh, maybe," he admitted teasingly before getting back to work trailing his tongue, teeth, and lips up the human's throat, moving deliberately slow to the shell of Clint's ear.

 

The throbbing in Clint’s groin was very evident now, pulsing against Loki’s thigh as he imposed himself over the bloated form of his lover. Clint rocked his hips against the trickster’s leg, aching for some friction and moaning when he received it.

 

“Loki,” he hissed, tipping his head back farther, reaching full hardness so quickly he was dizzy. The touch of Loki’s hands on his stomach was exquisite. The contents of his insides were packed so tightly that with his skin stretched wide, his nerves were on fire even before Loki began to finger and prod at every inch of expanded flesh.

 

The trickster shuddered and growled in approval against Hawkeye's throat, his hands roaming over the expanse of tight skin in thrilled curiosity. He gave one last teasing bite and pulled back, looking the human up and down and biting his lip as dark thoughts danced almost visibly in his eyes, then he finally made eye contact and smirked. "You know, I doubt your legs are going to hold out, given your...additional weight. Is there anywhere in particular you'd like to take this?" He was being more accommodating than usual; given Clint's helpless state he felt he could afford to be, just as he could afford to take the little bit of additional time before making his move against Midgard.

 

Clint wrapped his arms around Loki’s neck and pressed his face into his shoulder before nodding with a little moan. “Bed, please,” he breathed, his whole body pulsing in three points. His throat, his gut, and his groin. Loki easily summoned a bed into existence in the middle of the throneroom, which Clint graciously spread out on. His stomach seemed so much larger now that he was on his back looking down on it.

 

He hesitantly pulled off his tight tank top and kicked off his boots, but the thought of trying to wriggle out of his jeans made him groan with nausea, and he decided it would be best to leave that to Loki.

 

“So you really do get off on this, huh?” Clint smirked as his jeans were worked down off his legs.

 

Loki paused and looked up, staring blankly at Clint for a split-second before a twisted smile spread slowly across his face, his expression acting as enough of an answer to make words unnecessary. He wouldn't bother to explain, as he didn't want to ruin the moment by stopping to tell the human about Asgardian values and what different traits were considered attractive there, so he simply let his molten gaze linger for a few seconds before returning to getting rid of the archer's remaining clothes.

 

Tossing the human's jeans away as though offended by their very existence, the trickster turned back to Clint and surveyed him with approval for a moment before leaning down and kissing the archer's inner thigh, continuing to tease and occasionally let his teeth graze the flesh just to hear the man whine.

 

“Oh, shit,” Clint groaned, and his stomach was much too overpacked to even attempt grinding down on those tricky lips. He licked his own lips in approval, his thighs quivering in anticipation of what was to come. His toes curled and his head tipped back and he was already getting ahead of himself, imagining what it will be like when Loki finally penetrates him and rides him hard while he’s feeling so raw and full.

 

He grabbed at the sheets of the magicked bed, his knuckles turning white as he gasped, vision swimming and mouth open to utter endless streams of useless babbling encouragements.

 

Loki laughed softly at the dazed words stringing out of Clint's mouth, loving how completely incoherent the archer already was under his treatment and how powerless the human was to do anything about it. The archer could barely move at all, let alone do anything to the trickster still assaulting his thigh, and it appealed to his manipulative nature to see that.

 

Finally pulling back, Loki looked the human up and down for a moment, his head tilted slightly to one side as he considered his next move, then he reached out and ran one slender finger up Clint's aching cock from the base to the tip, only the tiniest of smirks showing through his pensive expression as he swirled his finger around the tip.

 

“No, you, oh _shit_ oh god, Loki,” Clint babbled, trying and failing to arch into the touch. His hands reached weakly forward, trying to grab onto Loki before he floated away on the sensations. He was feeling phenomenally overwhelmed, and needed to root himself to reality before he passed out. “Loki, please, please, babe, please,” he sobbed, breathing heavy beneath his weighted middle. “Please, need you, I need you.”

 

"Do you now?" the trickster murmured teasingly, reaching out with one hand and absently running it across Clint's tight stomach. He had to admit, he didn't think he could carry on teasing for too much longer, especially since it didn't seem like the archer would be able to hold himself together if things kept going at their current pace. That, and he _did_ technically have things to go destroy.

 

Leaning out over the swollen body beneath him, Loki balanced to try to keep from pressing too much weight on the human's midsection and placed the first two fingers of one hand against the archer's lips, his smirk widening a little as his eyes flashed. "Can you manage this much for me, hm? Or do I need to handle it?"

 

Clint didn’t hesitate for one second to draw Loki’s long, thin fingers into his mouth. He sucked with abandon, clutching Loki’s wrist with both hands so he could draw the fingers deeper between his lips and then slide back, fucking his own throat with those long digits. He swallowed anxiously around them, laving his tongue over knuckles and into the webbing between the fingers. He finally manages a shallow, weak roll of his hips downwards against Loki’s knee, stifling his moan with another hard suck to Loki’s fingers.

 

He was already pulsing with such need, his inner muscles clenching and loosening involuntarily as they begged to be stretched and filled.

 

The trickster was speechless for a moment, startled by just how eager Clint was and pausing as a sharp thrill rushed through his system. He purred in appreciation and closed his eyes for a moment, just feeling the archer's mouth on his fingers, then he finally smiled and chuckled, shaking his head as he gently tugged his hand free. "Easy, easy. That's enough," he murmured, leaning in to place a kiss on the human's lips in approval before he leaned back to push one of the man's knees slightly more to the side. 

 

Loki's smirk grew at the desperate whine that accompanied him pushing his fingers inside the archer, and it wasn't long before he was pumping the digits in and out with ease, quite pleased with how quickly Clint was stretching for him.

 

Clint was sobbing with need, and wondered if the potion Loki filled him with had any kind of aphrodisiac qualities to it, or if he was just oversensitive in general because of his stretched skin. He wanted so badly to rock down on those fingers, but any movements made his body feel itchy and heavy and tired, and he needed to keep himself together if he wanted to get through the next few minutes of passion.

 

“Loki,” he whined, tilting his head back and clenching his teeth. The tendons on his neck stood out and his body shook. Loki’s fingers weren’t particularly thick, so it was very easy for him to take three, sometimes even four of his digits in not a very long amount of time. He was already feeling so loose and overused, his body lethargic and hazy, so he opened up in no time, clenching rhythmically over Loki’s fingers.

 

“Please,” Clint breathed, head still tipped back. “Please, please.”

 

The constant, desperate begging was starting to get to Loki, his breathing growing more shallow as he bit his lip and let his eyes slide up and down Clint's body almost feverishly. He gave a wordless snarl of frustration and pulled his fingers out of the archer's ass, his patience finally wearing through as the human moaned at being empty, and he grabbed Clint's knee in a death-grip as the sharp pangs of arousal hurried him along. 

 

He hung his head for a moment and growled as he freed his aching erection, unable to wait any longer and pushing inside the archer with no further preparation. He was too damn needy for this right now, and if it hurt Clint too badly he'd just have to make it up to him later.

 

Clint screamed. He was never one for screaming, but the sensations were too much. He was suddenly and achingly aware of his own bursting length. He could feel tears run down the sides of his face, sticky and hot. He could feel Loki’s hand on his stomach, wide and cool against his burning skin. He felt Loki’s shaft planted inside him to the hilt, thick and heavy and pulsing. Everything from the tips of his ears to the bottoms of his feet felt itchy and tight, but despite that he buzzed with a desperate need.

 

“Go, go, please, babe, go,” Clint begged, hiccupping and tremoring. He would lift his legs around Loki’s waist like he usually did, but he was far too stretched in the middle to accommodate anything but lying there and taking and taking and taking.

 

The trickster shuddered and stared wide-eyed at the expression of perfect, agonized ecstasy twisting the human's face, too stunned for a moment to move as that glorious scream echoed around in his head. To say he was startled would be an extreme understatement, and it took a few seconds before Loki remembered what he was actually doing and flinched back to life, blinking. He pressed the hand on Clint's stomach a tiny bit harder against the firm bulk as he started moving, setting into a fast, hard pace as his eyes remained locked on the archer's face hungrily.

 

Clint’s mouth was wide open in a silent scream as sensation rolled through him harder than anything he’d ever experienced. Torture sessions in the past had him feeling less used and turned around and inside out than this. He might have just had an orgasm or he might not have, he’s pretty sure that if he did he wouldn’t have even been able to tell because the onslaught on every nerve ending in his body was above and beyond the realm of human possibility. That’s what he gets for falling into bed with a demigod.

 

Finding his voice, Clint begins to moan and wail, throat hoarse and open. He feels nauseous and rubbed and chafed, and the discomfort is nothing but bliss. He feels too heavy on the blankets and too tight around Loki’s cock, like he’s been stuffed into someone else’s body while they were still in it.

 

“Loki, please, please, touch me,” he begs, raising his arms over his head to try and stretch his body out and relieve some of the pressure congregating in his bulging midsection.

 

Slowing his pace slightly as the archer's words sank in, the trickster's eyes flashed and the corner of his mouth was tugged upwards in a smirk. He released his hold on Clint's knee rather than move his other hand off the human's swollen stomach, groaning approvingly as his fingers wrapped around the archer's length as if it was his own. Moving his hand in rhythm with his hips, the trickster hissed at a particularly strong pulse of pleasure that added to the tension he could start to feel building inside, his nails scraping across Clint's middle as his breathing grew ragged.

 

“Oh, oh, oh,” Clint chanted just above a whisper, his eyes closed tight and his head stretched back as far as it could go. The tightness of his body was starting to loosen with his extended arms, and he was beginning to feel languid as the pressure dropped lower and lower south, building up in his groin. Loki’s hand was cool and quick over his heavy stomach and full cock, and when he opened his eyes to see if Loki was enjoying it as much as he was, the vision above him took his breath away.

 

Loki’s pale skin was sheened with sweat, his hair falling in his face. A bead of sweat rolled down his brow, down the slender slope of his nose, and dripped from the tip into the archer’s shallow bellybutton. His lips were just barely parted as he panted, his eyes narrow but unfocused as he tried to look at every part of Clint’s body at once. He could see that Loki was just as overloaded as he was.

 

He turned his head to the side, tucking his nose into his bicep, and he grew shameless with his moans. He knew above all else, Loki loved to listen to the fruits of his labors, and Clint’s moans at his ministrations were the sweetest music Loki had ever known.

 

“Oh, Loki, yes, yes, baby, oh yes, I’m so close,” Clint choked, his hands fisting in the blankets over his head. “So good, it’s so good, your cock is so good – oh yes, _Loki, yes_.”

 

The trickster tensed and snapped his head up to stare at Clint's expression, clenching the hand on the human's stomach to keep it from trembling as shocks rippled down his spine with every syllable wrenched from the archer's throat. He sped up at little, though his motions became more erratic, and he growled wordlessly in pleasure. He could tell he wouldn't last much longer at this rate, but so help him he would throw Clint off the edge first if it killed him; his ego would make sure of it.

 

Clint’s babbling grew louder and shorter in syllables the more Loki thrust into him. He felt like he was being steadily torn in half up the middle, like he was furling open wider and wider, and then it all came crashing back into him, the tightness returned, and with it his release.

 

Overfull stomach be damned, Clint arched into what was probably the most intense orgasm of his life. He opened his mouth to scream but he was so hoarse he could only barely whine. His knuckles and toes curled so tight they turned the color of the white sheets beneath him, and his semen jetted out of him with such force it decorated his bloated form as far up as his collarbone. Feet flat on the covers, he choked down his nausea with gritted teeth and began to lift and rock his oversensitive body downwards to meet Loki’s thrusts, trying to urge him into climax before Clint either passed out or just dropped dead.

 

Loki gasped and released his grip on the human's cock to lean both hands on the archer's stomach, the sheer force of Clint's orgasm coming as a complete shock that cranked up his own tension almost to the breaking point in a matter of seconds. He continued to move mostly on autopilot for a few more thrusts, but he came undone within seconds and groaned desperately as stars exploded in front of his eyes, hanging his head and gritting his teeth against the louder exclamations that threatened to escape. 

 

Panting and clamping his eyes shut, it was only by feel that Loki could begin to feel the potion start to take effect, and he growled a little in disappointment despite knowing full well that this had been necessary from the start. He just didn't quite want to relinquish that tight, unyielding stomach yet; he couldn't really help it.

 

Clint felt the discomfort start to fade, and he looked down to see his belly shrinking. It was a bizarre thing to watch, but within less than a minute, his stomach was back to the tight, flat abs he usually sported.

 

“That is the weirdest thing I have ever seen,” he said, voice completely fucked raw. He looked up to see Loki’s expression of annoyance and need, and he laughed weakly. “Come on, don’t be so sour, frostbite,” he said, lifting his hand to stroke Loki’s jaw as the trickster pulled out of him. “Now that I know you’re into this, I’ll let you do this to me again. And you can be the one to feed me,” he licked his lips with intrigue. “No potion.”

 

Loki raised an eyebrow, leaning his head on one of Clint's knees as a small smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. "I will hold you to that, you know," he remarked, his eyes flicking briefly down to the archer's once again-flat stomach. He sighed and leaned out over the human, nosing his neck and chuckling softly. "Definitely will hold you to that," he affirmed, just as much to make a mental note for himself as to remind Clint.

 

“You have a planet to rule, and I have a nap to take,” Clint groans, trying to roll the over-eager trickster off of him. “Come on, baby, don’t get started again. You’ve taken all I’ve got to give for today, I’m _dead_.”

 

"I know, I know," Loki sighed, leaning back and glancing over the archer's naked body one more time before getting up from the bed. He ran one hand through his hair and let his mind start clicking away at the next step of his to-do list for the day, transferring his thoughts over to the lovely opportunity for action before him, pausing as he started to leave and glancing back over his shoulder. "Should I expect you to still be here by the time I get back? I don't think it would be wise to risk letting the others see that you've returned to normal so quickly, do you know what you're going to do when they call you?"

 

“Mh, I just won’t answer,” Clint says, taking the blankets and rolling like a burrito so he doesn’t have to get up and get under the covers. “Let them panic. I’ll say you kidnapped me or something. Might need you to deck me in the eye before I make my grand escape,” he yawned.

 

"Or simply say that you fell asleep so deeply as a result of all the food that you didn't hear the call," the trickster suggested, waving one hand absently as he turned to continue towards the door. "Either way, it doesn't especially matter to me."

 

“I’ll be here,” Clint says as he rolls his blanket burrito closer to the pillows so he can wiggle between them and make a nest shape. But then he seems more alert and pushes out of the blankets and leans on the headboard to catch Loki’s eyes right before he can leave the room. “Hey wait,” he calls.

 

Loki pauses and looks over, and Clint’s face is serious as it ever is when Loki is about to launch an attack.

 

“Be safe, frostbite,” Clint says, giving a little smile.

 

Taken by surprise for a moment, Loki paused and simply held eye contact with the human, reading the archer's sincerity before breaking his eyes away and laughing softly. "Mh, I know. But they never manage to catch me even at their best, so I doubt they'll be able to do so in their current state," he pointed out, but his smirk died when he looked up again and saw the same seriousness in Clint's eyes. 

 

The trickster sighed and looked away, hesitating for a moment as though about to say something, only to shake his head and change his mind as he turned to leave again. 

 

"I know. I will be."


End file.
